Teenage Dream: Rory Down and Dirty
by jlbassmaster
Summary: Rory has the hots for Sam and decides to have a little fantasy session while Sam is working on Brittany's car down in the garage. Rated M for mature.


**Teenage Dream: Rory, Down and Dirty**

_Author's Notes: Written for a prompt by my lovely beta. (This is a repost so you may have read it before.) Adult content!_

**Beta Credit: **SkewedReality

Brittany Pierce sighed as she kicked the tire of her SUV. It was entirely too expensive of a vehicle to be having problems. She didn't even know what was wrong with it! Her dad was busy working all day and had no time to look at it, and none of her friends were particularly inclined to work on a car. They were all better at singing.

"What's wrong, Brittany?" asked a boy who happened to have the thickest Irish accent she ever heard. Well, the _only_ Irish accent she ever heard.

"Oh, hey Rory. My car's broken. I didn't run over any nails or anything, but it starts smoking when I turn it on. I thought it might be Lord Tubbington, but he's in his room," she explained.

Brittany sat down at the table, laying her chin on her hands, sulking. "I don't know what to do. Dad's too busy, and nobody else I know will mess with it. If I hire someone, daddy won't give me money to take Santana out this weekend."

Rory raised an eyebrow. "What about… Sam?" he suggested.

"Sam? Hey, I forgot all about him. He never tried to get in my pants so I don't pay that much attention to him. Good idea," she said, perking up. She immediately sent Santana a text message to retrieve his number.

_Excellent! She's gonna call him over here. Maybe… maybe I can ask him to show me how to work on the car or something. Anything to be able to get near him._

"Hey, what's the spaced out look for? You're not looking at my butt, are you?" Brittany asked accusingly.

Rory snapped out of his daze. "Huh? Oh no, definitely not. Sorry."

"Oh. Shucks. I like when guys check out my butt. It makes me think I still have game even though I'm with a girl," the blonde girl said. Rory sighed and smiled, amused.

"Anyway, Sam's on his way. I'm so glad someone will fix it. Santana's coming to take me to the mall, so you watch him and make sure he doesn't steal anything, okay? Lord Tubbington has a stash hidden somewhere and he'd get awfully mad if anyone took it," she warned him.

Again, Rory simply smiled. He wasn't entirely sure what a 'stash' was, but knowing Brittany and her cat, it referred to some sort of drug or boiled cheese.

Realizing that he was about to be alone with his friend whom he had a major crush on, Rory ran upstairs to the bathroom. He raided the cabinets and made sure his deodorant was fresh, his hair was combed, and his teeth were brushed. He wanted to be perfect for him.

When the doorbell rang, he dashed down to the door to find Sam standing there in a white tee shirt and a pair of jeans with a jean jacket. "Hi Sam!" he said with a little more enthusiasm than he meant to show.

"Hey, Rory. Brittany home? She asked me to come look at her truck," Sam explained.

"No, she left with Santana, but she told me to let you in the garage to work on it," the younger teen answered. "Come on in."

"Thanks," Sam said simply, coming over the threshold. Rory simply stood there in awe of his masculine frame. "So… the truck?"

Rory blushed a little bit. "Oh yeah. This way to the garage," he said, leading him to the side of the house. They passed by the kitchen, where he offered the blonde boy a drink. Sam accepted a bottle of ice water before stepping into the garage.

"What did she say was wrong with it, exactly?"

Rory thought a moment. He didn't know anything about cars. He just knew she said it smoked. "Uh, she said when she turned it on, the engine smoked or something."

"Probably forgot to put oil in it or something stupid like that," Sam muttered. With Brittany, it was most likely the simplest thing that she translated into a crisis.

Rory stood in the doorway for a moment, watching while Sam opened the hood and tested the engine. Sure enough it began to smoke. He turned it off before the smoke got out of hand and then sighed.

"I guess I'll leave you to it, then," Rory stated, feeling awkward just standing there. Sam shrugged and started to poke around the engine a little. Rory smiled and pulled the door shut. Well, almost all the way. He left it open just a crack so he could peek through it.

Once Sam was alone, he started to swear under his breath as he checked this and that, making sure belts were in good condition, looking over fluid levels. Surprisingly, the oil was fine. It looked like it might be more difficult than he anticipated.

Rory peered through the crack in the door, getting a very choppy vision of Sam poking about. He bit his bottom lip as he observed the blonde bend over to pick something up off of the floor, the fabric of his jeans pulling against his firm rear.

"Shit!" he heard Sam shout suddenly. He had removed some sort of cap in the engine and it was spewing oil, leaving splotched across the front of his shirt. "Shit, shit, shit! Way to go, dumbass," Sam cursed himself.

In a way, it was funny to see, and Rory almost blew his cover when he let out a giggle. Luckily for him, Sam was swearing loud enough to cover the noise. Feeling brave, he stood back up and opened the door.

"Is everything okay?' Rory asked. "I heard you shout."

Sam turned toward him, grease and oil on his hands and arms, his white tee shirt no longer solid white, but covered in dark spots. He even had a smudge on his cheek where he had scratched an itch. He gave the boy a grin, a little embarrassed.

"Yeah, uh, sorry about that. I just got a little sludge on me. I'll be alright. I'll holler if I need anything," Sam told him, hinting that he didn't care for an audience. That was all right, however, as Rory now had everything he needed for his imagination to take over.

The Irish lad scurried up to his room, locking the door behind him. He couldn't help himself. The image of Sam standing there, dirty from head to toe in grease; it was too much for him. Such a masculine picture, something that accentuated Sam's manhood.

Rory laid on his bed, adjusting his pillow under his head. Oh how he wished Sam were in the room right now. No, not in the room. That was too innocent. No, Rory wanted him in the same place he saw him standing a moment ago.

Rory placed one hand over his crotch, rubbing himself through his jeans. With his other hand, he traveled up his shirt and started to toy with his nipples. As he started to let his hands aid in his arousal, he started to imagine what he really wanted to see when he peeked through the door.

Sam would be standing there, sprayed with drops of oil against his shirt. He'd swear, just like he had observed before, but instead of going back to what he was doing, Sam decided to take off his shirt. Rory bit his bottom lip as he thought about Sam's strong hands grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it up over his head, briefly exposing his armpits.

As if mimicking the vision, Rory lifted his own shirt up, then over his head, tossing it aside. He pictured Sam standing there, bare chested, next to the open hood of the truck. He pictured Sam's tight abs, his pectorals twitching as he started to fiddle with something in his hands.

Rory wasn't built anywhere near as well as Sam was. He wasn't anorexic, but he wasn't muscular either. No matter. With his eyes closed, he could imagine his hands were touching whoever he wanted, or even someone else's hands touching him.

Right now, it was Sam's hands on him. Strong, greasy hands, pinching Rory's nipples, causing him to squeal in delight. Smudges of grime were left on his chest when Sam moved on to fiddle with his jeans.

First, Rory pictured Sam unbuttoning his own jeans. He kicked off his sneakers and then unsnapped his jeans, dropping them to the floor of the garage, muttering something about not wanting to get them dirty.

"No, you don't want to ruin your pants, Sam. Just take them off, you don't need them," Rory breathed aloud unintentionally. His hands were still toying with his nipples. No – to him it was Sam's hands. Big, strong hands that were used to lifting weights and plucking guitar strings.

The lad reached back down and started rubbing himself through his jeans again. It was beginning to be too much. He was hard as a rock and straining against his clothes so much that it hurt. As the Sam in his mind was dropping his pants, Rory pulled off his own, imagining that he was being undressed by the muscular blonde downstairs.

"Too bad I'm too shy to really be naked in front of him," Rory said to himself. In his fantasy, it didn't matter. Imaginary Sam was wearing a pair of tight, white briefs, his bulge stretching the front of them.

"Mmm, Sam I bet you're so big. Big hands, big lips, you gotta have a big dick," Rory moaned to himself, picturing his friend bent over the front of the truck, digging in the engine, the y-fronts tight against his ass.

Dream Sam unconsciously reached down to rub his crotch, leaving behind a dark smudge from the grease. Realizing his mistake, he stood up and hooked his thumbs under the waistband, sliding them down his thighs, past his knees, and to the floor.

Rory had shifted his hands so that one was rubbing his lower abdomen, massaging the tight muscles that lay beneath the flesh, his other hand tugging gentle on his balls. He kneaded them between his fingers, rubbing his thumb in circles around them.

To complement his fantasy, his Sam had started to touch himself. He pinched his nipples, ran his hands over his pecs, down his abs, leaving behind streaks of olive-black. When he reached his groin, he avoided touching his manhood, but instead took his sack in his fist and started tugging and rolling them much rougher than Rory was doing to himself. Sam was huge in Rory's world. Long and thick shaft, big, low-hanging balls. Rory was actually feeling drool leak from the corners of his mouth.

Rory could feel clear, semi-sticky beads dripping from the head of his cock, drooling onto his tummy. Just the images in his head was enough to get him aroused and ready.

Back to the fantasy, Sam was finally stroking himself, his hand going up and down, up and down, loud moans escaping his lips with each stroke. Rory started to do the same, sliding his hand up and down, in rhythm with the imaginary Sam in his head.

Dream Sam started to quicken his pace, grunts and moans emanating from his mouth. Rory was beginning to do the same; the sounds coming from his own mouth echoing in his ears as if they were Sam's.

"Mmm, Sam… I want to suck you so bad…." Rory hissed to himself. Knowing that was not an option, his took two fingers and started to tease his lips. He parted them and licked the tips of his fingers, then started to suckle them. In his head, it was Sam's cock pushing its way inside his hungry mouth.

Rory mumbled something, his fingers keeping him from being coherent, even to his own ears. He took his fingers in as far as they would go, wishing that it really was Sam in his mouth, furiously thrusting into his face. His mind was screaming "Fuck my face Sam!" but it came from his mouth as "uck ma ace am."

Sam still had his fist wrapped around his dick, but instead of stroking, he was thrusting into it, demanding that Rory suck it. Dream Sam was imagining Rory sucking him, the way Rory was imagining gobbling him down. It was a dream within a dream, Inception at its best.

His fingers good and slick, Rory reached down and started to tease his rear. He hadn't experimented with that before, but in his erotic imagination, he wanted Sam to enter him, to own him.

Sam bent over, one hand on the front of the truck, the other hand still fisted around his erection. Rory eagerly slid a finger into his own ass, whimpering at the foreign sensation. Sam started to very slowly push into his fist – no, into Rory's virgin ass. Yes, that's what fantasy Sam was imagining – popping the cherry of a young Irishman.

Becoming more adventurous, Rory slipped in a second finger. It hurt at first, but he knew if it was really Sam there, he would be hurting a lot more with such a girth as his. Sam suddenly thrust deep into his fist, Rory's fingers going deep until they touched the hard walnut inside himself.

"I want you to take me, Sam," Rory moaned. With every thrust Sam made in his mind, he thrust his fingers inside of him, just like when he was thinking about giving him oral pleasure. The faster Sam pounded, the faster his fingers went. Every time, he managed to hit his pleasure spot, sending electrical impulses through his body. Pulses that made every inch of him tingle.

Dream Sam spoke for the first time. "You have such a nice, tight hole, Rory. I love tearing it apart," he grunted. As he stuffed the boy full of his meat, Rory was stroking himself feverishly. In reality, he had one hand around his dick, the other in his ass, his legs parted and raised to give easier access.

He was finally getting to the point where he couldn't take it anymore. His fingers ached, but he couldn't stop from going in and out with them. His nipples were tiny pebbles aching for attention they were no longer getting. His breathing was labored – the breath of a man being ravaged by another.

"I'm gonna fill you up, Rory," Sam whispered in his ear.

"Fill me up, Sam, make me all yours," Rory mumbled back. As the Sam in his dream thrust faster than he could match, the blonde began to cum, letting out deep, loud, guttural moans as he filled the teen with every ounce of his seed.

Rory's fingers rubbed his prostate furiously, ignoring the ache in his hand. His other was tugging on his dick, sliding up and down with insane speed. He reached the point of no return, his body shuddering, his toes curling, every muscle tensing up. In his mind, his load splattered all over the front bumper of the truck, oozing down to the garage floor. In reality, it shot up his chest and smacked him in the chin.

Sam let himself soften and slip out of the sated boy, Rory letting his fingers out of his ass. He ached, his virgin pucker overworked and abused. He tensed, thinking about how wonderful it would feel if it had been Sam's dick penetrating him instead of fingers.

Feeling a little silly, but dying for the sensation anyway, he took his fingers and wiped up his seed from his tummy, and then coated his lips with his own cum. He licked his lips. Bitter, but at the same time arousing.

Opening his eyes, returning from the fantasy world where Sam took him over the hood of a truck, he stared at the ceiling, sighing. His hands were sticky, his chin was sticky, and his chest was sticky. He looked over at the clock and noticed it had been about a half an hour that he had been living in his fantasy, masturbating furiously in reality.

"Damn. What a mess," Rory stated flatly. It was always disappointing to come down from the high of an amazing orgasm, almost depressing even. He grabbed a pair of boxers from the hamper and used it to clean himself off before pulling his clothes back on.

Lonely, but sexually satisfied, he decided he wanted a snack and would also check on Sam – the object of his masturbatory fantasies ever since they met in glee club. This was the first time it had been so intense, however.

Rory unlocked the door and pulled it open, about to step out when he walked right into something firm. Stumbling backward, he looked up to see it was a person he had walked into. A tall blonde boy, his tee shirt stained with oil, smears of grease on his jeans.

"S-Sam!" Rory exclaimed, a feeling of horror rising in his chest.

"Uh hey. I just was gonna see if you wanted to go on a test drive with me, but uh, sounds like you were kind of busy so, I uh was heading back downstairs to uh-" Sam was fumbling over his words, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

Rory was mortified. Sam had heard him. "W-what did you hear?"

Sam finally let a sly grin come across his face. "I heard what sounded like you having a little uh… personal time….:" he muttered. "And I think I heard my name…"

Rory felt faint. His cheeks suddenly flushed red, he began to sweat, his heart skipped a beat or fifty. He thought he might pass out at any second. What was going to happen now?

"Y-you're not gonna…. You're not gonna tell anybody about this, are you?" Rory asked, his voice barely a squeak. Sam smiled at him again, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"No. No, I won't tell. But I wanna know, was it me you were thinking of?"

Rory choked. He couldn't say it. He couldn't make himself admit what he had just done. Still grinning, Sam nodded. "I take that as a yes. You're a real nice guy, Rory. Real nice."

"I-I-I'm…. I'm sorry!" he blurted out. "Please don't hit me!" the teen pleaded.

"Why would I hit you? I would never do that. The only thing I wanna do is…." Sam wrapped his hands around Rory's arms, pulling him in close. He cocked his head and let their lips touch, a spark of electricity seeming to flow between them. Rory's eyes went wide at the unexpected sentiment, but then he relaxed.

Sam broke the kiss, standing straight again. "I just wanted to do that." Rory blinked in shock. He hadn't expected that at all. He thought Sam would beat him up, or at the very least sling some cruel words at him. Instead, the blonde kissed him.

"I'd like to do more…" Sam added.

"Like what?" Rory asked nervously. He was still flushed and sweating but he was breathing normal again, his nerves beginning to relax. Sam leaned down and kissed him again.

"Whatever it was we were doing in that little fantasy of yours. Act it out, maybe. Maybe more," Sam said quietly. At that point, it was he who was embarrassed to express his emotions. "Do… do you want that?"

Rory could barely contain himself. "Yes!' he blurted out. "Yes, I do! I want to.. I want to be with you," he added, suddenly wondering if that was the wrong thing to say. Maybe Sam just wanted a booty call, and that expression would scare him away and ruin his one chance.

"I uh, I don't know if I'm ready for a relationship, but I wanna be friends," Sam said, his voice comforting. "Close friends."

"Close friends?"

"Real close friends," Sam said, giving him a suggestive look. "Can we be real close friends, Rory?"

Rory smiled. He would take what he could get for the time being. Maybe if Sam became enamored with him, it would develop into something more than just sex. For the moment, sex would have to be the lure to get his attention. "Yes, that'd be wonderful."

Sam was about to hug him when he realized he was covered in vehicular sludge. "Let me get cleaned up though. I'm kinda greasy and gross with oil."

Rory shook his head. "No. I like the grease," Rory said with a grin, taking Sam by the hand and leading him into the bedroom. "I like it just fine."


End file.
